Agent 707's Diary
by Ailis Ceana
Summary: Vanderwood comes across a realization while attempting to get a certain red-headed hacker to work. A notebook, can of soda, and mess on the floor later, he tries to give Seven some advice. Vanderwood and Seven friendship.


_**A/N: This is an idea that had been sitting in my drafts for awhile. Decided to finish it, clean it off, and put it up for other people who loved the friendship between Vanderwood and Seven. Anywhoooo, enjoy! Set somewhere in the Mysme routes. Slight spoilers, but nothing glaring.**_

* * *

Agent 707 was a boy of mystery. Sure, he was a grown twenty-two year old man, but to Vanderwood he would always be the young teenage boy he was assigned to watch. Funny how he had to worry about him goofing off more now than back in those days.

Vanderwood grumbled a few swear words under his breath before slamming the end of his broom against Seven's table. A few origami cats went scattering to the ground. "Are you working or playing!"

Seven bowed his head apologetically a few times before snatching the paper cats off the floor. "I'm just taking a break, Miss."

The older man rolled his eyes. He didn't even remember when Seven started calling him "Miss Vanderwood", but he didn't even bother correcting him much…it was useless any way. "Listen, we have a deadline very, _very_ soon. So, I suggest you stop doing crafts and start hacking."

The boy pouted before sticking a pencil in his tangled hair and started typing off code in the computer. Why the heck did he even have a pencil? He wasn't writing anything…unless…

Vanderwood spotted a notebook lying open beside the keyboard. There were cats with hearts around it, along with a few doodles of…a girl? He reached out for it. Not because of curiosity. He wasn't curious. Nope. He just wanted to make sure Seven was doing his work.

He was shocked by the hand that deftly shot out and shut it, revealing it's bright purple cover. "Don't touch that!" Seven spluttered. "I'm doing my work! See!"

He sloppily slammed his fingers on the keys until the computer made an error sound. Vanderwood glared and snatched the notebook off the table from the distracted hacker. Seven made a leap for it, but the older agent skillfully held out his hand. He flipped the book open while Seven tried to continued his futile attempts to dislodge his head from Vanderwood's grasp.

Of course, there was nonsense written everywhere. "606 and 707" was scattered everywhere, sometimes in binary code. "What the heck is this?" Vanderwood asked waving it about. "Your diary?"

"Yes!" he replied in an annoying sing-songy voice.

"If you had a diary, you wouldn't write it in a notebook." Vanderwood stuck his thumb into the middle to open it.

"Stop! Don't read it! It's—er—top secret stuff!" Seven said.

"I'm your supervisor, stupid. I've been on the same missions as you," Vanderwood returned. He let Seven go, but stepped out of the way before the boy could lunge at the notebook again. "It's distracting you. I'll give it back when you can work for five hours straight without messing up."

Seven groaned and flopped back into his chair. "I'm not a child, Miss Vanderwood. Give it back!"

"Then stop acting like one!"

"Promise you won't go through it!"

"Why? Is it personal?" Vanderwood raised an eyebrow. "Or do I need to remind you that agents are supposed to have anything personal?"

"N-no, that's not it," he replied.

"Then it's no problem if I take it," he said.

"I have notes in there! For—er—coding."

Vanderwood blinked. Seven looked away under his gaze. Both of them knew that, despite his inability to concentrate sometimes, Agent 707 was an absolute genius when it came to computers. Memorizing code wasn't an issue. He never needed notes.

"Get to work," Vanderwood said through gritted teeth.

The boy scrunched up his nose and pulled up his headphones, giving a pointed glare to Vanderwood. He could feel that Seven was sticking his tongue out behind his back. Still, he ignored it and walked away, notebook in hand. He walked back into the kitchen where he was sure a packet of ramen noodles was burning.

He was, thankfully, on time to save them. He poured the soggy noodles into a bowl and setting it aside. Seven would be hungry once his anger subsided and be searching for something to eat…which Vanderwood would make sure would not be another bag of chips.

He tossed the notebook onto the counter and began to chow down on his own—now cold—noodles. What could be so important that Seven started keeping a notebook? Classified files were in a room downstairs…or scattered across Seven's desk. Reference books were haphazardly thrown onto the shelf behind his desk. Seven never needed to find codes for when he supposedly gamed online.

The purple book seemed to be screaming out at him. He really shouldn't…but what did it matter? It wasn't like Seven actually had a diary, right?

Right?

He snatched it from the counter and filed through it page by page. As he thought, most of it was nonsensical doodles. He recognized a few cartoons—or "emojis" as Seven called them—based on the RFA members. They all had different expressions, which were neatly labeled by the hacker.

Vanderwood stopped when he came across the picture of the girl. He saw her name scribbled on the top. Interestingly, Seven wasn't drawing her as a cartoon like the others. He was just…drawing her. Some of them had quote bubbles, saying things like "Cheer up, Sevenny Seven!" or "When are we going to the space station, Seven?", along with some quotes that just seemed like a jumble of incoherent words.

Vanderwood turned a few more pages. His brows furrowed as he tried to decipher Seven's messy handwriting.

 **-Likes Honey Buddha Chips**

 **-Enjoys taking walks every day**

 **-Wishes for one dog and one cat**

 **-Sneezes really quietly…like a mouse**

After awhile, he stopped reading. "Is this a list of facts?" he muttered. It obviously wasn't about any target they had recently looked into. After all, their current client had been taking up most of their time for the past few weeks. There was no time for extra clients on the side.

The realization hit Vanderwood harder than the soda can Seven chucked at his head.

"Oops!" Seven called, not so innocently from the doorway. "I was aiming for the garbage can."

Vanderwood would've yelled if he wasn't so stunned. He put the book down, vaguely aware of the younger boy rummaging through the cupboards in search for another can of soda.

He didn't snap out of it until Seven waved a hand over his eyes. "Earth to Vanderwood," he said, more loudly than needed. He let out a chuckle before pulling open a bag of chips. "Why are you spacing out? That's my job."

A few moments of silence passed before Vanderwood snatched the bag out of his hands and threw it on the counter. "Agent 707," he said solemnly.

"What's with your mood swings today?" Seven frowned, bringing the new can of soda up to his lips. "You're never any fun—"

"Do you have a crush on someone?"

Seven spluttered causing his mouthful of soda to spread all over the floor. The floor Vanderwood _just_ cleaned an hour ago. Idiot…

"Is this a shoujo?" Seven laughed.

Vanderwood pulled out his taser and pointed it towards him. That seemed to do the trick as Seven's smiled completely disappeared.

"The RFA girl," Vanderwood continued. "Do you have some sort of feelings for her?"

Seven pushed his glasses higher on his face. He took another swig of Ph. D. Pepper and smacked his lips obnoxiously. "I think this case is going a bit stale," he mumbled.

"Agent 707," Vanderwood spat. "Do you or do you not have feelings for her?"

"It's nothing like that," he snapped back. His eyes hardened. An unusual coldness overtook his usually cheery features. "I…I'm just trying to help her get adjusted to the RFA. You know…the leader is gone right now and all, and no one knows most of the stuff she's dealing with where she is. So, leave her alone."

A sense of pity washed over Vanderwood. Seven was a mystery…often turning from cold to warm at any point of time. When they first met, he did nothing but work and occasionally sleep. Then two years ago, there was a sudden switch and he started being stranger and wearing weird colors. Still, Vanderwood had known him long enough to see what was real and what was a mask. All agents had them. It was necessary to stay alive…to stop themselves from self-destruction.

Still…he was so young. If he was living another life, it would be natural for him to have feelings for someone…maybe even a relationship or two…settle down and have kids. Vanderwood inwardly cringed at the thought of a bunch of tinier versions of Seven running around. What a mess.

He shook his head. "Just be careful," he said more softly than he usually did. Based on Seven's wide eyes, he caught on as well. He went on. "I can't tell you to not have feelings. I'm telling you to not act on them. You'll only end up hurting yourself and the ones close to you."

An unwelcomed ache settled in Vanderwood's chest. He hadn't felt it for a long…long time. He hit his head with his hand. Couldn't have that resurface now….Nope. He wasn't dealing with that. "Got it?" he said, re-assuming his harsh tone. He shoved the notebook back into his hands. "And I would suggest you'd get rid of that."

Seven took a deep breath and blew out through his mouth, his breath making his bangs fly up into the air. When was the last time the kid cut his hair? Gosh…did Vanderwood have to do everything? "Yeah, yeah," Seven said, turning and leaving the kitchen. "You've lectured me before."

Vanderwood scrunched his nose in disgust at the mess on the floor. You know what? He wasn't going to clean it up. Let the kid slip and fall for once. It'd be the second part of his punishment.

He marched back to Seven's computer desk. Seeing a program loading, he grabbed the broom he left earlier and whacked him on the head.

"Ouch!" Seven rubbed the offending area. "What was that for?"

"You think I'm going to let the soda can throwing go?" Vanderwood scoffed. "Get on the floor and give me a hundred push-ups."

"But—"

"Now!" he roared.

The red head scrambled to the ground. "Y-yes, ma'm—er—miss! I mean, sir!"

Vanderwood shook his head as the boy followed his orders, counting backwards from one hundred. He sighed, letting a fond smile on his lips while Seven wasn't looking. He was annoying, sure. But he wasn't a bad kid.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Vanderwood is a nice guy, right? Sorta. I mean, he cleans Seven's house for goodness' sake...the man has a good heart. :') Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you thought...or if you just want to love on these two in general. :) Thanks for reading~**_


End file.
